


Unruly

by pt_tucker



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Canon-Typical Mage Hate, Gang Rape, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Spitroasting, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, blink and you'll miss it Fenris/Hawke background, male mage Hawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-31 02:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15109892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/pseuds/pt_tucker
Summary: Hawke is the Champion of Kirkwall. That doesn't stop him from being a mage, something which the Templars are quick to remind him.





	Unruly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [linndechir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/gifts).



> **Warning:** In case you missed it, this fic has graphic rape in it. Proceed at your own caution.
> 
> Fair warning, I haven't played DA II in a while, so there might be some minor inaccuracies. Feel free to point them out, if you wish.

“C’mon lads, clear a spot!” 

The group jeered as one of them pushed everything off of a nearby chest. Hawke grunted as he was tossed down over the top of it. 

“What? You’re not even going to offer me a drink first?” He joked as a woman came up behind him and began tugging on his trousers. 

She punched him in the back. “Shut it, mage. We’ll have no more of your mouth tonight.” 

She flipped him over to get at his belt, and Hawke made the conscious decision to do something outrageously stupid when he kicked her right in the face. He was going to regret that.

The room seemed to freeze as they watched her drop like a sack of discarded potatoes. And then it was chaos. Three of them dragged him off the chest kicking and, well, mostly kicking since they’d tied his hands behind his back and Hawke wasn’t about to scream if he could help it. He did, however, groan a bit as feet descended upon him.

“You insolent cur!” one of them hissed, pulling out a knife, “I’ll teach you to behave!”

“No!” another said, grabbing hold of his wrist. The violence stopped as the group quieted.

“You must be the leader,” Hawke wheezed, “You’ll have to forgive me for not paying the proper respects earlier. All you Templars look the same to me: murderous and stupid.”

The man with the knife took a step forward but the other man - a Knight-Captain from the looks of things - shook his head. 

“Now, now, Bodo, you know we didn’t come here to kill him. We just want to make sure our dear Champion understands his place here in Kirkwall.” His eyes drifted towards the woman. “I think Lillian had the right idea, don’t you?”

Bodo grinned. He pulled Hawke up by the straps connecting his neck guard and tossed him back onto the chest. 

“This again? Really? You’d think by now you’d come up with better ideas.” 

He kicked out, but this time his attacker was ready. Bodo snatched his leg out of the air and then the other when Hawke tried to kick with his left. 

“Cnaes, Otwin, hold his legs.”

His fellow Templars were only too pleased to comply, which was how Hawke found himself with his tied hands trapped underneath him and his legs splayed wide as two men twice his size spread them far enough that Bodo could slip between.

Bodo made short work of his neck guard, cutting the straps before tossing the metal to the wayside.

“Hey. That was expensive.”

Hawke’s face jerked to the side when he smacked him. 

“Silence, mage. Or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“Oh, I hope not. I’ve been told it’s my best feature.” That earned him another smack. His left cheek stung something awful, but that didn’t stop him from giving Bodo a cheeky grin.

Bodo snorted and slid the knife underneath Hawke’s waist strings. “I wouldn’t move if I were you. Wouldn’t want to slip.”

“Remove these chains and I’ll do it for you. A concentrated fireball should do the trick, don’t you think?”

The group laughed.

“Yeah, I didn’t think that was going to work either,” Hawke said.

“Shut up,” Bodo growled, snapping the strings with a couple of quick pulls. The knife went to his belt next. Bodo grinned when the leather gave way to his cutting, revealing crooked yellow teeth. 

Hawke was so not kissing that. 

Kissing seem to be the last thing on Bodo’s mind as Hawke was once again unceremoniously flipped over and slammed down onto his stomach. Maker was he going to have some bruises in the morning. His destroyed belt went flying off to the side somewhere.

Hawke took a slow, steady breath when his trousers were pulled down.

“Get me some of that lamp oil,” Bodo ordered.

“What? You’re not even going to let the Knight-Captain go first?” Hawke replied before he could stop himself. Or, rather, before the part of his brain that wasn’t completely mad could attempt to convince the rest that he should at least _pretend_ to have some sort of self-preservation. 

Bodo paused. “Sir?”

“It’s fine. I’m content to watch.” Indeed, the Knight-Captain seemed to have made himself at home in the rundown shack they’d dragged Hawke into: the man was resting in a nearby chair with his feet propped up on an overturned crate.

“Plausible deniability,” Hawke said, “This way if anything goes wrong he’ll be able to look the Knight-Commander in the eye and say ‘Oh no, I didn’t touch the mage, I swear. It was those _other_ Templars.’”

The sudden tension in the room was palpable. Hawke grinned to himself. 

There was a beat and then the Knight-Captain stood. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. They did say you had a clever mouth. For your information, I prefer my men less…manly.” He drew his thumb across Hawke’s bearded chin as he tilted his face up. “Perhaps after this we’ll visit your apostate friend down in Darktown. He’s much more to my liking. Or maybe that elf of yours. Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about, am I right?” He glanced over his shoulder. The other Templars yelled their agreement, apparently pleased enough with his answer for their suspicion to fade. 

“Yes, they are very pretty, aren’t they?” Hawke agreed. “It’s too bad. I’m afraid they’re a bit out of your league.” The Knight-Captain, while not quite as hideous as Bodo, could never be named the most handsome man in Kirkwall. Or even this shack. And they both knew it.

The Knight-Captain’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Let’s see if we can’t find a better use for that mouth of yours, mage. Bastian, come hold it open for me.”

“With pleasure, captain.” 

A young man, easily no more than twenty years, slid across the top of Hawke. His legs rested on either side of his back as he leaned over and pried Hawke’s mouth open with his gloved hands. Hawke bit down.

“Don’t bother,” Bastian said, “They’re made out of dragon hide.”

“All that money and not a speck of decency,” Hawke said. Or, rather, tried to. It came out a bit garbled, what with the hands in his mouth and all.

The Knight-Captain began undressing and Hawke was foolish enough to give the two of them his full attention. It therefore came as a bit of a surprise when something big and blunt and not nearly slick enough pressed against his asshole. He kicked and bucked but Cnaeus and Otwin were quick to grab his legs again, lifting them into the air so that he could get no purchase and instead was forced to lay there - half on the chest, half dangling in the air between the two Templars - as Bodo forced himself in.

Magic thrummed under his skin as Bodo pushed past the tight ring of muscle around his anus. Two dozen spells flashed through his mind, each one more painful than the last, but the chains around his wrists made sure they were _kept_ in his mind. A deep, painful burning scorched his insides as Bodo found his rhythm, his cock pumping in and out at a pace that would have been harsh even if he’d prepared Hawke properly. Seeing how he hadn’t, Hawke was left unbearably tense as he tried not to move, lest he injure himself more. 

He squeezed his eyes shut.

This was okay. He could do this. 

He could do this. 

“Aww. Don’t tell me we broke you already,” the Knight-Captain said, ruffling his hair.

Hawke’s eyes snapped open in time to see a cock coming towards his face. But like the one behind him, there was nothing he could do to stop it, and he was forced to watch helplessly as it slipped in between his teeth. Hawke gagged when it touched the back of his throat and this time his bucking was involuntary as he tried not to choke. The Knight-Captain pulled back and rubbed the tip of his cock along Hawke’s tongue. 

“We really should have brought the other two. Anders absolutely knows how to take a cock properly, and I have no doubt that a pretty knife ear like that has had his fair share as well.”

Anger and something a bit like fear swept through him. Neither of his companions were ones to bring up the explicit details of their pasts - no more than was necessary for their goals, anyway - but it didn’t take a scholar to realize what had happened. Hawke couldn’t allow them to be brutalized again. 

Not that he had much choice in the matter at the moment.

The Knight-Captain pushed back in and once again Hawke gagged. That seemed to set the pattern, the other man holding his cock at the back of Hawke’s throat until he began to thrash before pulling back to rub himself against Hawke’s tongue while he tried to control his heaving. Over and over and over again. 

Hawke’s eyes watered as he was choked repeatedly. 

Behind him, Bodo let out a breathy moan and then Hawke’s ass burned with something new as his seed shot into him. Oh how he wished he could grit his teeth right then. He settled for yelling a barely recognizable ‘fuck you.’

Bodo slapped his ass when he pulled out. “Who wants to go next?”

“Me!” Cnaeus said, all but dropping Hawke in his haste to get behind him. Or perhaps it was Otwin. One of the two of them, at any rate. 

Bodo chuckled. “Easy there lad, we’ve plenty of time for all of us. Nobody knows where he is.” That last part had most certainly been directed at Hawke. 

He grunted as Bodo exchanged places with Cnaeus/Otwin. Bodo took hold of his right leg and lifted him into the air once more. The whole ‘forced to lay directly on his chest with no other support’ was doing _wonders_ for his attempts to breathe around the Knight-Captain’s cock.

He sucked in a breath as Cnaeus/Otwin slid in. Maker, he was even bigger than Bodo and it _hurt._ He tried to squeeze his legs shut; an illogical course of action no doubt but one which he couldn’t help but attempt as the bastard took up a pace that made Bodo seem almost gentle. 

One of them laughed. Hawke couldn’t be certain who, too busy gagging once again to focus. “Now he’s beginning to squirm! Go on, Cnaeus, fuck him harder! Don’t worry about hurting him, we’ve got lots of health potions.”

The jeering started up then.

“Fuck him!”

“Teach that mage a lesson!”

“He’s certainly not running that mouth of his now, is he?”

“Not like he’s good for much else.”

“Too right. The only thing a mage is good for is a long, hard fucking. We should just make the whole lot of them tranquil and set them up in a brothel somewhere.”

“Hear hear!”

Hawke was fairly certain that if they’d had drink, they’d have toasted right then. He jerked when cum splattered across his face. It only just missed his eyes. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” the Knight-Captain said, wiping his cock against Hawke’s lips. Hawke glowered. “There’s something to be said for having a bit of fight in them.”

They all shared a laugh. A couple of them began debating whether or not they should give him a health potion now - apparently he was looking rather ragged - or wait until ‘the mage’ passed out from the pain. A few others continued with their taunts, cheering Cnaeus on and chiding Hawke for having been such a bad mage to have deserved this. 

Hawke tried to block it all out, but that left him focusing on the terrible pain in his ass and his back and this throat and his bruised sides. Even his legs hurt from where they gripped him. 

He was almost glad when the next one came to stand in front of him if only for something else to focus on. And wasn’t that a sad thought? He bit down again, but Bastian gave no notice of feeling it. 

The man was at least smaller than the Knight-Captain, though that wasn’t enough to stop Hawke from gagging when he shoved his cock in all at once. And so it continued.

Things became a bit of a blur after that. Might have been the pain. Might have been the lack of oxygen. Could have been the three health potions they fought him into swallowing before they realized it was easier to deliver them via other orifices. Only the Maker knew what was in those things when they came from Templar hands.

They took turns fucking his ass, one after the other after the other, giving no care to the leavings of the men before them as they slid into Hawke’s ever-loosening hole. Drool dribbled down his chin and onto the floor. He hoped one of the bastards slipped in it. 

He closed his eyes when one attempted to ejaculate right into them, and so his only warning that the next was coming was when Bastian shifted to adjust his hold. 

That is, until Bastian himself began to complain.

“When is it going to be my turn?”

Hawke had flashbacks to watching Bethany and Carver learn how to ride a horse. ‘She’s already been on there half an hour. When is it going to my turn!’ 

He had to hold back his laughter at the ridiculousness of it. He wasn’t certain he’d be able to stop once he got started. And laughter so easily turned to sobs when given the right push.

“Youngest goes last.”

“But you’ve already gone twice! Three times if you count both his mouth and ass.”

“Let him have his turn,” the Knight-Captain ordered from somewhere to Hawke’s right. “The mage could use a break anyway. Couldn’t you, mage?” 

Bastian’s fingers slipped out of his mouth. Hawke felt his weight shift around him as he hopped off the chest.

This was of course where Hawke was expected to how show very sorry he was by begging forgiveness and promising to be a good little apostate from now on.

Too bad begging had never been in his nature.

Hawke’s voice was low and raspy when he responded. “What? Are you tired already?”

He shook even as the words left him. They were going to get him in trouble, but trouble was always better than tears. 

Threats sprang up from all around him, some wanting to fuck him without the potions and leave him to bleed, others wanting to get creative with their knives, at least one of them said something about their hound. Hawke shuddered at that one.

“You’re brimming with false bravado, aren’t you?” the Knight-Captain murmured. 

There was an opening there for Hawke to make a quip about how some men didn’t need to pretend in order to compensate for _other_ things, but he was too exhausted to take it. He just wanted this to be over.

Someone tilted his face up and then Hawke felt something soft run across his eyelids, cleaning them. He opened his eyes to see the Knight-Captain holding a messy rag. 

“Is this the part where you pretend to be the ‘nice one’?” Hawke whispered, his throat too damaged to allow him to speak properly. 

“I _am_ the nice one.”

As if on cue, Bastian rammed himself entirely into his ass in a single thrust. Something not dissimilar to a whimper escaped Hawke before he could stop it. 

“Now then, why don’t you show the lads what you’ve learned tonight, hmm?” the Knight-Captain said, running his fingers through Hawke’s hair as if he were a favored pet. He held the disgusting, seed-filled rag to Hawke’s swollen lips.

“Go on, clean it. Show the lads that you can be a good mage, and we’ll let you rest for a while.” 

Only for ‘a while’? Certainly not a very enticing offer. Still, Hawke found it hard not to consider it.

Fenris’ voice flitted through his thoughts. 

_“My master was always at his worst when he was at his kindest.”_

Hawke had understood it logically at the time - give a starving man a single piece of moldy bread and he’ll love you forever - but he hadn’t truly felt the words’ meaning on a personal level until now. Not until his entire body ached, his insides burned and overflowed with the seed of a dozen men, and his ears rang with the recriminations of people who honestly believed he deserved this and more for daring to so much look ‘his protectors’ in the eyes. Not until someone offered a way to end it all, even if only for a moment.

Hawke sighed as he looked around the room. 

Trouble was always better than tears. And he did so love trouble.

“I think I’ll pass. But you’re more than welcome to it. Maker knows you’re certainly not getting any of that at home.” He nodded towards the globs of seed stuck to the rag.

The Knight-Captain’s lips curled into a snarl and his gentle petting turned into pain as he gripped Hawke’s hair and yanked his head back. “Clearly this mage needs more work than I’d thought.”

“I do enjoy exceeding expectations.”

“One of you join Bastian. He should be loose enough for two of us at once. And if not…” the Knight-Captain grinned darkly as he released Hawke’s hair. 

The door burst open then, and before anyone had a chance to react, the Knight-Captain was dead.

“You will not touch him,” Fenris hissed, pulling the man’s heart out straight through his armor. 

And so the fight began. Hawke grimaced when Bastian all but toppled out of him, the young Templar scrambling for his blade even as Anders - or, rather, Justice - blasted him into the wall. Justice/Anders took one look at Hawke before apparently deciding he wasn’t in control enough to help. Quick steps took him away from Hawke, and he advanced on one of the other Templars alongside Fenris, for once the two of them in perfect harmony. 

Well, that left things to him then, didn’t it? Hawke grunted as he slid off the chest and onto his knees. It was only then that he realized that Cnaeus and Otwin had long since given up holding him. 

“Oh no. What have they done to you?” Merrill whispered, obviously upset, as she crouched down beside him. 

“Oh, you know. A bit of this and a bit of that,” Hawke said, grinning. His throat really didn’t appreciate of all this talking he was doing, whispers or not, but if Merrill started crying there was a terrifying chance he might not be far behind her.

He tensed when she touched his lower back. She immediately dropped her hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just let me-” She directed her staff towards the chains.

“Don’t!” Varric snapped. He sent a crossbolt through a nearby Templar’s knee before slinging Bianca over his shoulder. “They’re made specifically to hold mages. Casting a spell on them might cause a reaction. Let me do it.” 

Of course, getting close to the chains would also mean getting close to…other areas. 

It was to Varric’s credit that he pretended nothing was out of the ordinary as he carefully pulled Hawke’s trousers up. 

“I see you’ve been entertaining the Templars,” Varric said, taking out his trusty lockpick set. 

“Varric!” Merril snapped.

Hawke shook his head, grateful for the attempt at normalcy. “You know me,” he rasped, “I live to be entertaining.”

Merril didn’t look like she approved, but let them be. 

It didn’t take long for Varric to free him. It did, however, take long enough that by the time he was free there were no more Templars left for Hawke to kill.

He frowned, not certain if he was disappointed or relieved.

“Hawke,” Anders said, dropping to his knees in front of him. His skin, having begun fading back to normal, blasted into brilliant blue as he got a good look at him. 

“Calm down, Anders. I’m fine.”

“You are _not_ fine!” Justice yelled. 

Anders shook his head as he regained control. “I’m sorry, forgive me. I shouldn’t scream at you. Knowing the Templars, I’m certain you’ve already had enough of that tonight.” He winced then, as if realizing that perhaps he shouldn’t have brought it up. 

“Move, mage.” Fenris growled.

Hawke stiffened. “Don’t say that. He has a name.”

Both Fenris and Anders started, before the looks shifted into uncertainty and understanding, respectively.

“Forgive me. If I may?” Fenris directed that last part towards Anders. 

Anders shuffled back, allowing him to take his place at Hawke’s side. Fenris awkwardly placed his hands on Hawke’s shoulders.

“It’s okay, you can touch me.”

“I’m not entirely certain about that, but if it’s what you wish…” Fenris pulled him into a hug. 

His body betrayed him then, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes for the first time that night. Hawke couldn’t help but laugh as he pressed his face into Fenris’ shoulder. How stupid of him. It was _over._ There was no reason to cry now.

It was over.

It was over.

It-

A sob escaped him, and he buried his face harder, pressing into the leather until it was almost painful.

“C’mon,” Varric whispered, “We should check around, make sure there’s no more Templars hiding about. Fenris can handle this.”

“Are you cert-” Merrill started at the same time Anders began to protest. They both went silent. 

Some sort of unseen communication must have taken place without Hawke’s knowing – that, or Fenris was holding a threatening fist towards them all behind his back – because the next thing he knew something heavy slid into the straps on his back. 

“Here, you can use mine for now,” Anders said. “It’s geared more towards healing than fighting, but it should do the trick in a pinch. We’ll be nearby if you need us.”

Hawke merely nodded, not wanting to pull away from Fenris lest they all be forced to openly acknowledge just how hard he was crying. 

One of them – Varric, probably – squeezed his shoulder as they left the room. 

It was quiet after that, the silence only broken by the hitching breaths Hawke couldn’t quite manage to smother.

He and Fenris stayed there for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope my recipient enjoyed this! I'm probably going to do a follow-up fic when I have time, showing a bit of Hawke's recovery. It'll be Fenris/Hawke, with heavy Hawke+Anders friendship.


End file.
